


Owl Father

by bloodscout



Series: 18 incredibly impressive ficlets written for the 18th birthday of the frighteningly fabulous fishoutofcustard [15]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Coffee, Ficlet, Fluff, Gen, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-25 22:00:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodscout/pseuds/bloodscout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The official code is that “the coffee must be as black as the soul of the demon would be, if he did, indeed, have one.” It had come from Lucifer himself, who is often quite longwinded and prosaic in his speech, and – in Crowley’s opinion, anyways – a bit of a dick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Owl Father

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lucie (fishoutofcustard)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Lucie+%28fishoutofcustard%29).



> This is the fifteenth fic of the 18 fics I wrote for [Lucie's](fishoutofcustard.tumblr.com) 18th birthday.

In all honestly, the only way a demon should drink is coffee is black. Very black. Black as coal. The official code is that “the coffee must be as black as the soul of the demon would be, if he did, indeed, have one.” It had come from Lucifer himself, who is often quite longwinded and prosaic in his speech, and – in Crowley’s opinion, anyways – a bit of a dick. As such, he takes the coffee suggestion with a grain of salt. Or rather, with two lumps of sugar and a dollop of milk. That’s one of Crowley’s favourite thinks about humans, actually (specifically the English) – that “a dollop” is an exact measure of liquid. He’s never found an Englishman who’s put too much or too little milk in his coffee. It’s always just right. Perhaps he’s nudged their hand a little every now and then, but it’s by no means a regular thing. He generally trusts that his coffee will be made right. Unless, of course, it is being made by a gang. Then, he would prefer to take care of the milk himself, thank you very much sir, and please put away the gun.

 

Aziraphale does not like coffee, which Crowley believes to be one of the many downsides of being from, well, the Other Side. He voiced this once, and was strongly rebuked.

‘Now, Crowley, you really mustn’t be so rude! It has nothing to do with those Up There.’ he told him, face stern.

Crowley’s face told Aziraphale how much he believed him – which is to say, not at all.

‘Coffee stains.’ Aziraphale said primly, as if it was the perfect answer.

Crowley rolled his hand, prompting more explanation.

‘Coffee stains are the worst think to happen to books.’ he told the demon. ‘Imagine if I were reading an Oscar Wilde original, and I spilt coffee on it! It would be horrific.’ Aziraphale exclaimed, only just a little theatrical.

Crowley nodded like he believed the angel entirely, even though he didn’t. Because really, tea stains were just as common on books as coffee, and Aziraphale _certainly_ didn’t have a lifelong hatred of tea.

No, Crowley knows that the angel hates coffee because he was once supposedly sold an original copy of the “Owl Father, who does art in heaven” Bible. It was, however, just an ordinary bible that’s ages had been soaked in coffee to makes them look dark and aged.

Sometimes, when Crowley is reflecting on his life in a dingy bar in Manchester, he thinks that perhaps he shouldn’t have convinced that man to counterfeit a coveted bible. It was, he supposes, the first time that karma had come back to bite him on the arse.


End file.
